A Night With The Billionaire Musician

Elena's pov My fiance, Joe, had no idea I was home that night. It was meant to be a surprise for him—my body felt the innate need to simply be in his company since my heart had long decided it loved him, and I thought that having him do it impromptu would heal me. It was my turn to be surprised, however, when I unlocked the door with my spare key from outside and was just locking it back when I heard the deep moan. It made me stand paralyzed, breathless and lost, and I walked on tip-toe, more out of fear than to disguise my approach towards the room I had put effort into furnishing. He had not bothered to even shock the door, so I got a full view of the man I was supposed to vow my life to in days. His voice, usually so measured and calm, was a series of high, desperate whimpers as I watched him lying on his back, his frame propped up on his elbows and his legs spread wide open as another man slammed into him from above without mercy, while his eyes looked on the other and his mouth hung half open with a look of pure ecstasy I knew all too well. I do not know for how long I stood watching in the darkness—maybe because the room felt like it was tilting, but the rhythmic sound of their bodies meeting felt like a hammer against my skull. I wanted to scream, but I was anchored to the floor by the sheer weight of the humiliation. “Yes… faster baby… oh… don’t stop,” Joe gasped. I covered my mouth, trying hard to keep the bile from rising. Was this actually happening? Was I going to wake up tomorrow in our bed, with him telling me he loved me, and find that this was just some fever dream? “I’ll fill you up, Joe,” the man with him growled, his voice deep and predatory. “You know you’ve been starving for me.” My man moaned his assent with three yesses. My heart broke to remember that in our half-decade together, Joe had barely stayed awake for ten minutes of missionary. Whenever I had tried to initiate something more, he’d find an excuse—he was stressed, he was tired, or he’d give me a look of subtle pity that made me feel like a chore. I was still counting my losses when the man groaned: “I'm coming. Oh my.” And it happened. They held each other in an intense, almost loving pose for moments—the way Joe had never held me before, and if all I had seen was not enough, the other man rolled over and fell to the bed while Joe, with white fluid dripping from his body, started to position himself. They were going to have s*x again. This was when I couldn't take it anymore. “Joe,” I yelped, my voice coming out with a croak. That was when both of them saw me and jumped apart from each other. Both their eyes were wide open, and Joe’s head snapped toward the door, his face draining of all color. He scrambled backward, nearly falling off the mattress as he frantically grabbed a duvet to cover his nakedness. “E-Elena?” he stammered, his jaw shaking. “What… why are you here?” My head dropped in self-pity and I bit my lip, trying hard to stop the tears from falling out. So this was who he truly was, while he been performing a role with me this entire time. It hurt to think that every profession of love from him, all the anniversary dinners, every wedding invitation we’d addressed together, was now all just a calculated facade. “You didn't have to use me like that if you knew you were gay.” I managed, but the tears fell out of my eyes anyway, and my voice quivered. He shook his head, still clutching the silk sheets to his chest. “No, wait—Elena, please. It’s not what you think.” “Not what I think?” I stepped into the room, my hands curling into fists as my pain became anger. “You’re in our bed. The bed we bought for our marriage. You’re letting another man ruin you while I’m out picking up our wedding favors, and you want to tell me it’s a misunderstanding?” I saw that he couldn’t look at me. His face was a mask of pure terror. “You’re a coward,” I spat. “Five years. I gave you five years of my life. I was patient, I was loyal, and I supported you through everything. This is how you repay me? By hiding who you are until the week of the wedding?” If I was already hurt, then nothing hurt more than seeing that the man with him didn't seem bothered at all. He had only bothered to cover himself and had now sat up, stretching lazily before reaching for his trousers. “About that,” he muttered, glancing at me with boredom. “You could have timed your dramatic entry better. He was just about to go on me.” I watched in disbelief as he started dressing, completely unfazed. “I’m leaving. I told you this would be a headache if you didn't tell her.” Joe turned to him, his voice frantic. “Honey, wait—don’t go. I can fix this.” He only laughed, pulling on his shirt. “Fix it? Look at her. She’s a disaster. You were right—she really is a bore.” The sheer disrespect in his voice inflamed my rage and snapped the last thread of my sanity. I wasn't just heartbroken. I was murderous. “You arrogant prick…” I lunged toward him, my hand raised to strike the cocky smirk off his face, but Joe was faster. He jumped from the bed, catching my wrist in a bruising grip and swinging me away from his lover. “Stop it, Elena,” he roared. “Don’t you touch him.” “Let go of me, you traitor,” I screamed, struggling against him. “He’s mocking me in my own home.” “I won’t let you hurt him. Just calm down and be rational.” The air left my lungs as I saw that he was protecting him. The man I had loved for these past years was standing there naked, barely clad in a sheet, defending the man he had cheated with while I stood there shattered. “Why?” I whispered, the fight suddenly draining out of me. “How can you stand up for him after what you’ve done to me? You should be begging for my forgiveness.” His lover finished buttoning his shirt and looked at me with pure condescension. “Why would he beg? Did you honestly think Joe would ever be satisfied with one as plain as you? Use your head, sweetheart.” My ears began to ring. “Let me go,” I snarled at Joe, my voice low and dangerous. “Let me go right now.” “No,” Joe yelled. “You’re being hysterical.” I shoved him with every ounce of strength I had, sending him stumbling, and then made one more dash for that annoying man, but Joe recovered instantly. His hand flew out in a blur, and I felt myself being thrown back mercilessly. My body thumped painfully against the wall before I crashed to the ground. “I said don’t you dare lay a hand on him,” Joe hissed. Everything faded a little bit, but one thing was clear to me. I did not belong here.